


Home Is A Safe Place (I Promise We Aren't Mad)

by Numanum



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Claustrophobia, Panic Attacks, Protective Phil Watson, Protective Technoblade, Protective Wilbur Soot, Sexual Harassment, TommyInnit-centric, Underage Drinking, hurt tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Numanum/pseuds/Numanum
Summary: The lights are flashing across the crowd in a way that's supposedly intoxicating, and the smell of sweat in the air mixes with the scent of alcohol, creating a thick fog that draws almost everyone in. And everyone is there, drawn to it like kids are to a toy aisle in the shop. They jump and dance and yell and spin and touch, all without a care in the world. Tommy is sure that some of them won't even remember this night come morning, too busy handing their heads over toilets and regretting ever having been born. As if to prove him right, the base drops and some one gets sick on the floor at the same time, like the bass dropping was a cue to ruin the carpet.The music is loud enough to make his ears hurt, and the newly-dropped bass of it is pounding to the beat of his heart as he stands there uncertainly and looks for someone- anyone- that he knows in this mess of bodies.Another prompt from EmoPan00!!!!Basically, Tommy gets harassed and big brothers Wilbur and Techno come to save him!!It's loosely connected to the other Tommy fic, but it can be read alone without missing anything important! <3
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 59
Kudos: 2333





	Home Is A Safe Place (I Promise We Aren't Mad)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmoPan00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmoPan00/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I’m giving ideas so other people can write it for me lol](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464678) by [EmoPan00](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmoPan00/pseuds/EmoPan00). 



> Warning for a panic attack at two different points, though neither one is graphic! Also, sexual harassment, but again, just a little uncomfortable! <3

The lights are flashing across the crowd in a way that's supposedly intoxicating, and the smell of sweat in the air mixes with the scent of alcohol, creating a thick fog that draws almost everyone in. And everyone is there, drawn to it like kids are to a toy aisle in the shop. They jump and dance and yell and spin and touch, all without a care in the world. Tommy is sure that some of them won't even remember this night come morning, too busy handing their heads over toilets and regretting ever having been born. As if to prove him right, the base drops and some one gets sick on the floor at the same time, like the bass dropping was a cue to ruin the carpet.

The music is loud enough to make his ears hurt, and the newly-dropped bass of it is pounding to the beat of his heart as he stands there uncertainly and looks for someone- anyone- that he knows in this mess of bodies.

(Supposedly, a few school friends are here somewhere. Tubbo certainly isn't, as his parents are briefly home and he'd wanted to see them after months of not getting a single one of his calls answered; it makes Tommy angry, but Tubbo is always so excited to tell him that they'll be back for three days, so he always holds his tongue and congratulates his best friend with a bitter smile.

He plans on snitching to Phil the next time they leave town, just so Tubbo won't be so alone in that big empty house.)

Should Tommy have gone to this party? Probably not, honestly, and even he can acknowledge that as he watches disgusting people getting far too close in the spacious room of the main area, as if there's no choice but to get as close as possible. The house is huge, not as big as Phil's, but still; there's plenty of room for people to not touch. They grind against each other like the teenagers that most of them are, and he can only wrinkle his nose at it and look away from the display uncomfortably. For all of his jokes, Tommy really isn't into this sort of thing, apparently.

Did he technically get permission to go? Also no. But, as he never asked anyone, no one told him not to go, and he's going to cling to that loophole till the day that he dies. Not that anyone has to know that he's at a party; no, Tommy's plan consists of partying, and then sneaking back into his room through the window that he's at least ninety percent sure he left unlocked.

“C’mon, man, live a little!” some guy he'd just met named Jared laughs, shoving a cup into his hands and making Tommy fumble to grab it before whatever's in it spills everywhere. Not that it would matter, as the floor has certainly seen worse tonight, but still; he doesn't want to drop the full cup and have that follow him around for the rest of the night. Especially considering that this is Jared's party, and the rugs probably cost more than his life.

"It's pretty loud, isn't it," Jared, who's seemingly decided to stay next to him, laughs, tugging him out of the way just in time to avoid a few drunk girls stumbling by. His eyes roam over them in a way that makes Tommy's skin crawl, but there's not a lot that he can do as they walk past without a care in the world. Tommy nods in agreement to what was said, slightly glad to not be alone in his opinion of the loud-ass party and the headache that it's giving him.

The bass drops again, and his head pounds. It must show on his face, because Jared laughs and claps him on the arm before pulling him closer and throwing an arm over his shoulders like they're best friends, suddenly, and have been for years or something like that.

“You and I could go somewhere quieter, have some fun,” he says smoothly into Tommy's ear, breath hot and arm suddenly very heavy on his shoulders. More than a little little lost at the turn of events and uncomfortable and certain that he's just taking it the wrong way, Tommy barks out the loudest laugh he can manage, drawing the attention of plenty of people as he slips out from under the guy’s hand and claps him on the shoulder awkwardly.

"I'm serious," Jared pushes as he moves a little bit closer, thumbing at his own lip pointedly until he thinks that Tommy understands him, "I'd love to have you under-"

“I’m not gay, sorry,” he says nervously, looking for an inconspicuous house plant or something so he can dump the cup in his hand out without looking like a little bitch. None are around him, so he just clenches his fingers around the cup and resolves to set it down and walk away as soon as possible, pride be damned.

"Oh, c'mon-"

"Look, Jared-"

The lip of a cup is placed against his mouth as he speaks, and something bitter and strong pours into his mouth, making him sputter as it burns against his taste buds. It's undeniable alcohol, something strong too, and it tastes like nail polish remover smells. His eyes water as he jerks away, mouth half-full even as some of it drips sloppily down his chin. Before he can spit what's in his mouth out, a hand closes over his lips, and Jared smiles at him wickedly in a way that would make anyone either very uncomfortable or swoon dramatically from the sheer alpha-male presence. The sing changes to something faster, heavier, and the strobe lights change to match the new beat and feeling, swirling over the crowd and dying them all sorts of colors. Tommy stares at Jared, who's hand is still pressing insistently over his face. The lights from the party make the guy look like he's glowing red for a brief second, and the teen can't help but take that as a warning.

“Good boys swallow,” Jared says as he takes his hand away, making Tommy frown at him and shuffle back. It- it feels like a joke, but like one that he's the brunt of. Like Tommy is the punchline.

“Knock it off, man,” he says after a few seconds, turning back to the party but keeping an eye on Jared, who presses closer and leans against the wall behind them.

“I’ll _get_ you off-”

It’s not even that dirty of a joke, but Tommy is at his breaking point with this guy. Nothing's even happened, but he feels like the jokes are getting more and more serious, and he doesn't know what to do with that, how to respond when he says to stop and the jokes keep coming.

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” he mutters, ducking out from under the arm boxing him in against the wall and walking away to find a bathroom that hopefully won't have someone snorting powder off of the marble counter. A drunk guy slams into him, knocking the cup from his hands, and Tommy isn't sad to see it go. Any guilt about ruining the rugs is gone as well, and he takes great delight in stepping on what seems to be a red cherry that had been floating in the cup, smashing it into the carpet and twisting his foot to really grind it in there.

Spite is powerful.

The first door he opens is a bedroom with exactly three very busy people in it, and he slams it shut immediately and wishes that there was a way to safely bleach that image from his eyes without permanently blinding himself.

The next door is opened cautiously, as he is very wary now, and behind it is an undiscovered liquor supply, not yet ransacked by the party. Tommy shuts that door as well after locking it from the inside, and he moves on.

It takes almost four doors before he finds one that's a bathroom, and then three more after that to find one that isn't occupied in some way or another. Tommy ends up on the second floor, actually, where it's much quieter and he can hide in peace- not that he's hiding. No, certainly not; Tommy loves parties, he does, they can be fun- he just loves them more when he knows people at them.

Even as he closes the door behind him, Tommy knows that he'd rather be in bed right now, or up on his phone with Will and Techno and Phil, maybe even watching a movie or something.

He checks the lock on the door once, twice, before he moves to sit on the edge of the tub and stare at his knees. His mouth feels numb from the drink that had been shoved into it, and his skin is still crawling enough to make him shiver when he so much as thinks of going back downstairs. He's not drunk, he's not high- there's nothing stopping him from just walking home like a big kid, especially since he'd walked all the way here. It's even in his neighborhood, for fucks sake, a twenty minute walk and a ten minute drive. Tommy doesn't want to be alone right now, he thinks, but he certainly doesn't want to be with the people downstairs. With their hot bodies and empty cups- he misses everyone back at his house.

His hands find his phone, thumbing through random notifications as his mind wanders.

It wouldn't hurt to call, right? Just a quick one, they won't even know he's not at home because the music can hardly be heard from here, and there's no one else around him, and-

Not wanting to think too hard about it, Tommy quickly presses the call button on his phone and sets it down on the small table next to the tub, listening to the tone of it as he waits for someone to pick up.

Tommy double checks the lock after he shuts the door, hiding in the bathroom like a loser at a party as he pulls out his phone to call someone to come get him.

“You jacking off in there?” Jared's voice calls through the door loudly, startling him enough to almost have him falling back into the tub. In the nick of time, someone picks up.

“Tommy,” Technoblade says lowly into the phone, the only person that he could think to call at such a ridiculous hour. It's late, and he feels a small amount of guilt at the sleepy heaviness of Techno's voice, but his relief washes it all away.

“I was having a good sleep-”

“I need Wilbur-” Tommy blurts out, thinking fast. He doesn't, not really, he just needs to keep someone on the phone so Jared doesn't try to say anything else, and Technoblade sounded ready to hang-up and shred his phone with a cheese grater.

“Well,” and he can hear the raised eyebrow, good lord, but Techno sounds a little more awake, “you _called_ _me_.”

A fist knocks on the door.

“I just, I need someone to come get me,” Tommy says in a rushed whisper, picking his phone up and leaning into it. Really, he should probably be screaming it to get Jared to go away and leave him alone, but something keeps him quiet.

“What a loser, getting picked up from a party that you snuck out to,” Techno drones, but Tommy can hear his shifting as he presumably pulls himself out of bed to come get him.

“Hurry up, Tommy, the parties starting now,” Jared says, knocking on the door again. The phone call was only going to stop him for so long, Tommy guesses, but still, something in his chest tightens with panic at the thought of the door opening-

“It’s my house, man, I got keys,” and, as if to prove his point, the door swings open, revealing a very smug looking Jared behind it. Tommy almost drops his phone with how he jumps. Heart pounding, he rambles evert single code-word he can directly into the speaker, forgetting which one they actually chose as he watches Jared like a cornered animal.

“Anyway, so yeah- I just- just, tell Phil I said I’m going to- to _Stacy’s mom's_ for that _builder's_ convention, they're gonna have _turtles_ or something-”

The shifting on the other line stops, and he hears it the second that what he’s just said registers. He hears it on the way that Technoblade stops huffing like he's being forced to do something against his will, the dramatics stopping almost as soon as Tommy drops the first word. Silence greets him from the other side of the phone, stretching far too long, and god, what if he hadn't said the right thing? What if Techno just thinks he's high off his ass on drugs right now, and is smothering laughter on the other side of the phone, tucking himself back into bed and setting the phone down to end the call-

“I’m getting Wilbur, sit tight.”

The line goes dead then, and Tommy thanks his lucky stars for that stupid Life360 app that Phil made them all get last week, even though he'd disabled it for the night. Moving fast, Tommy opens the app and engages it just in time for Jared to reach him and haul him up with a strong grip on his shoulder.

"Lets go, they’re playing games out there."

* * *

'Games' means seven minutes in heaven, apparently, and Tommy has around ten before someone gets here to rescue him from his own bad decisions. Saying no, refusing to even participate, crosses his mind more than once as he's led downstairs to where they have empty vodka bottles on the floor and a few different circles of people, as there are far too many for just one group. The odds of him ending up in the closet are low, Tommy knows, especially with so many people and only ten minutes to get through.

"Lets do it in more than one closet, to make sure everyone gets a turn!" a drunk girl pipes up, leaning against another girl who supports her with both arms around her waist and nods enthusiastically.

They do, and Tommy gets pulled into the group that has a claim on a closet upstairs somewhere.

They spin the bottle to see who goes first, and it slowly spins to a stop on Jared, who hollers and grins and spins it again to see who he's going with, boasting about being first. The bottle spins, small drops of undrunk liquor flinging out of it, and it slows to a stop finally.

Pointing at Tommy, who stiffens in surprise because of _fucking course it would land on him against all odds-_

* * *

“Hey man, no need to be so worried about it,” Jared says with a hand on his shoulder as they stand in front of the closet door, “I’ll let you go in alone if you want? We can just mess up our hair and make it look-”

“Sounds good,” Tommy interrupts, walking in and shutting the door behind him before sitting down with his back to the wall and staring resolutely into space. To be honest, he hates this. A lot. He just- Tommy doesn't do well with small spaces in general, and this is fine as long as he can get out, but it's still enough to make him fidget with nerves. He can hear Jared shuffling in the other side of the door, presumably to make it look like they'd actually done what they were supposed to-

It’s only when he hears the click of the lock that he realizes what he’s just set himself up for.

Immediately, Tommy is shoving himself to his feet, batting away the empty hangers (who needs a closet in a room that they never use? Why get a house this big if you can't fill it-) that swing for his face as he knocks at the door slightly.

“Hey, man, I’m claustrophobic-”

Jared cuts him off.

“And a scaredy-cat, you’ve got six and a half minutes.”

He can hear the smile in Jared’s voice, can almost see it as he slams his fist into the door, other hand trying the knob repeatedly despite it clearly being locked.

“Tell you what, I’ll cut the time in half if you let me go in there with you.”

He almost considers it, almost, but instead he just backs away and doesn't respond. His silence seems to be answer enough, as Jared snorts and mutters something under his breath too quiet for Tommy to hear through the door.

Tommy shivers and sits back down, tucking himself into the wall like he'd been earlier, like making himself smaller will make the small closet seem larger. His phone is still with him at least, pressing into his thigh, but he doubts using the flashlight to show him just how small the closet is would help. Besides, it's not the dark that he's afraid of.

“Six minutes, could be three.”

Tommy’s breath shudders in his chest, and he screws his eyes shut.

“Two minutes.”

“Times up- oh no,” Jared says making Tommy jerk, “I lost the key.”

This door has a push lock, not a key, and they both know it- Jared knows that he knows it, so the joke doesn’t land-

“Convince me to find it.”

And Tommy breaks. His eyes get hot, his face goes numb, and his hands start shaking hard enough that he pulls them to his chest like he can hide them from himself. Like, if he holds them tight enough, they'll calm down. Reluctantly, Tommy plays the game that Jared's decided to start.

“Check- check your pocket-”

“Which one?”

“Fuckin’ _all_ _of_ _them_ -”

“Tell me which one, in _detail_.”

“Your, your pants-”

“You're gonna tell me to put my hand in my pants? Pretty gay for a straight guy.”

Tommy’s phone buzzes in his pocket, but his shaking hands don’t reach for it. Even turning on the screen is going to make the room seem impossibly smaller, and he’s already struggling to breathe as it is. Something happens downstairs, hooting and hollering and cheering, and Tommy wonders how long he's really been in the closet for, if Jared has been lying to him about the time.

"I could come in to comfort you-"

“Let me out- let me out, _let me out-”_

“No way! This is fuckin’ funny, man,” Jared laughs, “you’re such a little _pussy_ about it-”

A shuddering gasp breaks through his chest, loud enough to cut off Jared’s taunting, which then goes quiet.

“Tommy?” he asks hesitantly, and he can hear the door unlocking and Tommy is on his feet before the handle even turns.

The door opens, and Tommy darts for the opening without even pausing to consider doing anything else. Jared is letting him out, he's finally going to get out, and then WIlbur or someone will be here and he can go home and just forget about all of this because it was a stupid idea anyway-

The door slams shut when he reaches it, slamming into his cheek harshly enough that he can feel it beginning to bruise immediately, and he stumbles back and blinks away the tears as even more bead up.

On the other side of the door, Jared cackles again, and Tommy can hear him fighting to breathe in between each bout of laughter at his expense.

“You fuckin’ idiot-” he gasps before getting cut off by his own laughter again. Tommy curls up on the floor, shoulders brushing the wall as he shakes and pants and holds his hands to his chest and feels his cheek sting-

“Is Tommy in there?” someone asks, laughter in their voice as they knock teasingly on the door. It's mocking, in a way, but it's more of a way that's not against Tommy, somehow.

“Sure is, crying like a bitch,”

“How old are you, man?” someone else asks, little emotion in their voice aside from mirth.

“Eighteen-”

“Perfect.”

The lock clicks as it disengages and the door opens just in time for Tommy to see a fist collide with Jared’s face, sending him to the ground, where a foot is pressed into his chest with enough force to keep him down.

“Tommy, Tommy, come here,” Wilbur, that’s Wilbur, and he’s waiting by the door, not blocking it, positioned so that it can’t close unless he’s coming in as well, and Tommy scrambles up and out of the too-small closet. His chest feels tight, enough to cut off some of his air, but he's out, he's out-

A hand lightly rests on his shoulder, and his eyes flash open as he jerks away hard enough to send himself to the ground.

Tommy looks up at Wilbur, who stares down at him in shock, and bursts into embarrassing tears as he sits in a heap on the fluffy carpet.

"Wil-" he chokes out, scrubbing at his face in an attempt to force himself to stop being such a little bitch. His chest hurts, his eyes sting, his cheek throbs, and he just wants to go home.

"You wanna explain yourself?" Techno asks Jared from where he's standing over him with a blank sort of fury in his expression.

"You- you _hit_ me-"

"I either tripped or it's self-defense, depending on who who you ask."

"I'll call the cops-"

Technoblade cocks his head as the party downstairs gets loud again, "do it, call 'em. Rat yourself out and save us the effort."

Wilbur slides down the wall to sit next to Tommy, muttering smoothly into his ear as they both watch Technoblade intimidate the barely-a-legal-adult on the ground. Jared, who'd seemed so big when next to Tommy, so much stronger- he seems so small now. Hand pressed to his face just like Tommy's is, both cradling their wounds and cowering on the floor like kids. He sees the moment that Jared decides it's not worth it, a slump to his shoulders as he pushes himself off of the ground slowly, watching Techno like the other might just kick him down again.

"What am I supposed to tell people?" Jared says, waving a hand at the mark on his face. 

"I really don't care about that," Technoblade responds evenly before he turns to face Wilbur and Tommy.

"Car's outside, let's go."

* * *

"We're not mad, you know," Wilbur says softly, eyes on the road but attention on Tommy, "me and Techno, we're not mad-"

Tommy, slumped into his seat for the drive and with his window rolled down to help fight the claustrophobia that's trying to start again, breaks into Wilbur's calm words like a bull in a china shop.

"Phil-"

"-isn't mad either, Tommy," Wilbur cuts him off, giving him a concerned look.

"None of us are. Not at _you_ _specifically_ , anyway," his eyes meet Tommy's in the rearview mirror, and Tommy looks away, back out of his window.

(They have every right to be, he thinks. He'd joined their house on accident, dropped off by a careless social worker with the wrong address, and he'd been a nuisance for almost a full week before they said they weren't planning on sending him back at all. He's closed off, and rude, and Phil thinks he's traumatized, and Tommy can argue that point till his lips turn blue but a small part of him will never forget that-

He'd started a fight in the house, yelled at them, ignored them, all only around two weeks ago.

And now he's here, smelling of expensive booze and sweat and sitting uselessly in the back of the car like a naughty child with a swollen cheek and tear tracks down his face. He's made their life chaos, and he knows it, even if they don't seem to get it just yet.)

"Tommy," Technoblade sighs into the cloying silence of the car, "we aren't sending you back."

Wilbur starts, making the car briefly accelerate as his foot jumps on the gas pedal. He's quick to pull over, even though they're still a few blocks from Phil's house, and the car jolts to a stop as Wilbur forces it into park too roughly.

"What?" he says sharply, eyes wide like the thought hadn't even popped into his mind. He's ignored, but Tommy does glance at him before looking back out the window, even though there's nothing new to see anymore, and no wind to blow through his hair.

(They never joke about it, not after the first time they did when Tommy got quiet and they found his bag ready in an hour. It had never occurred to them before that this had been how he'd lived for most of his life-)

"I can hear you think' from all the way over here," Technoblade says, like the three feet is a far distance for his apparent telepathy, "so I thought I'd settle you a bit."

He turns in his seat, looking Tommy in the eyes.

"Wilbur did so much worse than attend a party when he was your age, Tommy-"

"Like _you_ were any better-"

"-I was. Tommy, no one is gonna blow up at you for this, _Phil's_ done worse than drink some booze-"

"I- I didn't drink anything, I swear," Tommy cuts in, finally meeting their eyes briefly before flicking his gaze back out the window.

"Tommy, there's literally drinks splashed down your shirt like you chugged something," Wilbur says, sounding like he can't believe Tommy is trying to lie to them after they came and got him from a party with alcohol. A laugh is on the tip of his tongue, but Tommy isn't going to let Wilbur think that he's a liar on top of everything else, so he keeps going.

"He- he made me," Tommy mumbles out the window, half-hoping that they won't hear him. Luck is against him tonight, as he sees Techno blink at him and Wilbur's hands freeze from where they had been reaching to start the car again.

"He what?"

The dam breaks, and it all comes pouring out. There's nothing he can do to stop it, just allowing his mouth to run like it always seems to to anyway, and it always gets him in trouble.

"Jared made me! I was talking and he just sloshed it in my mouth 'cause he's a bitch and then he wouldn't let me spit it out, he said- he said-"

"Tommy, it's alright-"

"He said 'good boys swallow' or some stupid shit like that-"

"Tommy, Tommy- you're okay, Toms."

His chest hurts, a different kind of pain from when he was locked in the closet- sharper, almost. He's not breathing as well as he should, like the air is running from his lungs every time he goes to take it in, leaving him gasping and floundering for something to hold onto as he chokes without it. The door beside him is yanked open, and someone pulls him to their chest with their arms around his heaving shoulders, holding him tightly.

"Match me, Tommy, match my breathing."

The door behind him must have been opened as well, because who he assumes is Technoblade crawls in and sits on his other side, pressed against him but ready to move if Tommy wants him to go. Tommy gasps in air, painful to his starved lungs, and starts crying all over again. It's stupid, it's such a stupid thing to cry over, and he doesn't even know what specific thing he's bawling his eyes out because of, but it's stupid and embarrassing and he hates it. He hates feeling so weak, hates how Wilbur and Technoblade have to come- come hug him or some shit, all because he was locked in a closet-

"That's the opposite of breathing, Tommy," Technoblade says jokingly, even as concern chokes his voice, leaning against him like a cat, voice rumbling against Tommy's arm like a purr. He blinks the tears away, rubbing at his eyes and wincing when he hits his swollen cheek, which aches in a way that tells him it's not broken, just purple. Wilbur taps at his knee to get his attention, fingers sure even though he's trying to peer up into Tommy's red eyes with limited success.

"I'm going to take you home, Tommy, okay? We're going home."

He leaves, the door shuts, and Technoblade doesn't leave the backseat to get in the front like Tommy expects him to. Instead, he just shifts so his long legs are folded more comfortable and sits there until they pull up to Phil's house, wrapped in silence. Wilbur parks the car and turns it off, but none of them move to get out. Eventually, the door opens and Phil comes out to them.

"Tommy," he says softly through the still-open window that Wilbur is going to bitch about later, reaching in a hand to hold Tommy's own as the other one comes up to hold his face. He sees it when Phil notices the bruise, and he sees it when Phil decides to not ask about it in that exact moment.

"Tommy, are you alright?"

He nods, despite the looks that he gets for it, and Phil lets him go so he can climb out of the car like everyone else already has before he hold's his arms out again. Tommy steps forwards and allows himself to be swallowed by the thick fabric of Phil's sleepshirt, hold onto the back of it tightly like someone is going to try to pry him away any second now. His own shirt gets the same treatment from Phil's hands, but he doesn't mind it.

They all go inside, sit on the couch, and pop in a movie that none of them actually pay any attention to, all lost in their own worlds as they sit there. Tommy can't help but wish that this is how his night had been, all of it, just sitting with Wilbur and Phil and Techno as some stupid Disney movie about a fish plays in the background.

Despite his night and the disgusting smell of the party that seems to cling to him, Tommy finds himself falling asleep on Phil's shoulder, waking up briefly when he's moved to the man's lap instead, and again when they start talking around him.

"-forgot the codeword, started sayin' all of 'em, sounded so scared-"

Fingers begin moving through his hair, and Tommy leans into them slightly, tilting his head without even thinking about it. It feels nice, after the night that he's had; Tommy is choosing this touch, and it's gentle and firm and it's everything that he wants without him ever having to open his big mouth to ask for it.

Through his foggy mind, Tommy can hear Wil and Techno telling Phil what he'd said in the car, what they saw when they came to get him, and the fingers in his hair briefly freeze. He shifts, trying to wake himself up in case he needs to go, in case Phil is mad, but the fingers immediately go back to running through his hair, as if asking him to stay.

It feels like home, if he's honest.

**Author's Note:**

> It's Done!!! Finally!!!! All in one day, actually. Let me know if I missed any tags or triggers and I'll fix it! <3


End file.
